


Mixing Bowl Mixup

by Marishna



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Chefs, Communication Failure, Cooking, Derek Has Issues, M/M, Oblivious Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 09:33:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3723913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marishna/pseuds/Marishna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek's only in this stupid class because of his sister. He's really not a dick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mixing Bowl Mixup

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "sharp" from fullmoon-ficlet on LJ. Had to be edited a bit when it was posted on LJ to fit requirements so this is just a little bit longer.

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me.”

“No such luck, Chef Hale. This is the assignment for the week,” Chef Harris said dryly from the head work station.

Derek’s reaction was prompted by the sight of _Stiles_ standing at his work station, making himself at home.

“This is—“

“Culinary school, Chef Hale,” Harris cut him off. “Being able to cook is the obvious requirement to be a chef, but you must also be able to work with new and different people. You must know how to work beyond your comfort zone and with people you normally wouldn’t. Gordon Ramsey makes the drama into a show but rest assured, there is real life drama in kitchens and you must be able to handle that.”

It wasn’t the drama Derek was worried about. 

When Stiles joined their course he literally fell into the classroom, tripping over the dangling strings of his apron, jumped up and bowed to the class, some of whom clapped and laughed. He was clumsy at times, loud and sarcastic. He made messes, he was experimental, he was a brilliant cook. Harris hated him.

Derek loved him.

Stiles station was diagonally to the right of Derek’s. He shared with Erica who caught on quickly to Derek’s crush on Stiles and teased him mercilessly. Derek’s station mate, Boyd, just laughed and gave Derek a _knowing_ look when he tried in vain to protest any interest in Stiles.

All this was Laura’s fault. Derek only took the course to appease her so he could “officially” help out with the family restaurant even though they both grew up in it, running around their parents’ legs while they cooked. But once Laura took her business management course and took over running the place she wanted everything to be “above board” and demanded Derek start on the path to become a chef.

“Hey,” Stiles greeted him casually as he leaned against Derek’s usual station—now _their_ station.

“Hello,” Derek replied stiffly. 

Derek didn’t know how to be cool and easy around Stiles. It was so rare that he felt attraction to anyone these days that he wasn’t sure how to deal with it. 

And he didn’t.

So he acted like a dick.

“I like to keep my station clean while I work,” Derek grumbled, staring at the way Stiles’ kit was spread across the counter top.

Stiles grinned and shrugged as if to say, ‘my bad’. “Cool, ground rules. I like it.”

Harris called for everyone’s attention and went over what would turn out to be a week-long group assignment. They were going to be planning a five course meal on the basis of fake client requirements and cooking it the last couple days.

It was going to be a long week.

***

Working with Stiles was _awesome_ as it turned out. 

Not that Derek actually told Stiles that, though. He’s surprised Erica doesn’t have whiplash from the number of times she stared back at them and grinned, made fairly inappropriate gestures, and mimed kissy faces.

If Stiles noticed he didn’t say anything. Derek just prayed to reach the end of the week without being totally humiliated by his inability to act anything close to normal around Stiles.

Who was _awesome_ with coming up with ideas for the meal they were putting together. He suggested pairings Derek wouldn’t have even dreamed of trying together and Derek was able to make tweaks to the flavors so they worked flawlessly. Even Harris was begrudgingly impressed with their menu. 

“The true test will be tomorrow when everything is cooked and served, however,” Harris told them in parting.

“He’s such a dick,” Derek said lowly. 

Stiles snorted. “Got it in one.”

They were prepping their finalized menu, getting everything ready for the next day when every group would prepare their five course meal for a small group of Harris-chosen guests. 

“I can’t tell if that means we’re screwed or if we’re going to magically see a different side of Harris,” Stiles said. “Maybe he won’t be quite as douchy.”

“Not likely,” Derek replied. Derek looked over and watched as Stiles easily sliced through some beef for their carpaccio dish. Derek watched how easily his hands held the meat and blade, his fingers long and nimble and—

“You okay?” Stiles asked and Derek blinked, looked up to see Stiles staring at him worriedly.

“Yeah. Yes!” Derek replied, cheeks heating up at being caught staring.

“Uh, okay. So hey—ow!”

Stiles dropped the knife he was using and backed away from the station, clutching his hand. 

“Stiles, did you cut yourself?” Derek asked but before he even finished speaking he could see red well up from Stiles’ clasped hands. Stiles slumped against the station behind them and Derek would literally see the colour draining from his face.

“Let me see, Stiles,” Derek said firmly. He stepped into Stiles who let Derek take his right hand. When he opened it blood was pooled there and Stiles groaned. “Stay with me.”

“Too late,” Stiles muttered and with that he sunk down to the floor, with Derek’s arms around him.

***

Derek was just finishing wrapping the cut on Stiles’ hand when he stirred. Derek had him in the staff bathroom, cleaning and patching Stiles with his head on Derek’s chef’s jacket on the floor.

“Wut?” Stiles mumbled, eyes fluttering.

“It wasn’t deep enough for stitches. You’re going to live,” Derek said, joking lightly. He helped Stiles sit up against the wall.

“You did this?” Stiles asked, still mumbly.

“Of course.”

“That’s so nice,” Stiles said, sounding confused. 

“I’m nice,” Derek replied, somewhat defensively.

“Not to me unless I’m mortally wounded, apparently.”

“Not mortally,” Derek shot back, then resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s okay that you don’t like me,” Stiles said. “I see the way your friends tease you about having to work with me.”

Derek groaned. “Erica. That’s—she’s not, I mean. It’s not like that!”

Stiles raised an eyebrow, waited for Derek to explain.

“Couldn’t be further from the truth, actually. About me not liking you.”

Stiles eyed him suspiciously. “As in…”

“I’d like to cook you supper sometime. At my place. Alone.”

Stiles grinned. “I’d like that.”


End file.
